


The Odd Prospect

by randompersonH2O



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompersonH2O/pseuds/randompersonH2O
Summary: When Billie Whitfield left her hometown in southern Indiana, she had no idea where she was headed. All she had was some cash, the clothes on her back, and a sleek black Harley to her name. It wasn't a great life, but it was better than the one she'd been living. Her travels somehow took her to Charming, California, the town that looked like it hadn't changed in over a decade. It seemed like a peaceful place to her. At least, it did until she encountered the motorcycle club that called it home.





	

The front door slammed shut, and it was music to Billie's ears. A sweet silence pervaded the house around her, as if the horrible battle she'd fought just minutes before had never occurred; as if she wasn't still trapped in the dwelling that had been her cage for six years.   
  
Every muscle screamed for her to remain sprawled where she was - it would give Billie's aching frame a chance to recover from the wrath  _ he _ had wrought upon her, but there was no time to relax. That monster would return soon enough, and the last place Billie wanted to be when that happened was in that house.   
  
She bit her swollen lip as she rolled off the bed, pain invading her senses with a new vigor. Billie couldn't tell what kind of damage had been done yet - she would have to make it to the mirror first - but what she did know was that it hurt. A lot. Enough to make her consider laying there for just a little bit longer, but she knew the idea would have to become a fleeting thought. Billie couldn't waste any more time.   
  
Bruised arms and legs moved on autopilot, pushing Billie away from the soft comforter of her bed and allowing her feet to touch the floor for the first time in hours. Her wobbly legs could barely hold her up, but she managed to stumble into the bathroom without falling thanks to the furniture and walls placed along her intended path. 

The mirror, which he had strategically placed on the opposite wall, was haunting by itself. Tendrils of tarnished silver branched out of the glass surface like vines from inside a dying tree, making Billie’s reflection look like a character from a horror movie. It was fitting given her condition.

The right side of her body was painted in various hues of blue and purple, a few splotches of green peppered in from past beatings. Her right eye was swollen almost shut, hiding one of Billie’s blue eyes from sight despite any efforts to open it. Cuts littered her face in the usual places - her eyebrows and lips. They made it difficult to eat or speak without pain, but she managed. She was used to this by now. 

Now that she had lived with him for six years, it was hard for Billie to imagine what had brought her to feel that dating Marcus was a good idea. He was charming, and always had been, but only in the beginning of their relationship was he kind. His deep Irish accent was the nail in the coffin for her, and the thought of it was enough to make Billie wish that she hadn’t been fooled by his superb acting and silver tongue. 

It took merely six months - enough time for her to be wrapped around his finger - for him to snap. His emerald green eyes held nothing but regret the first time he’d slapped her, as if it truly was a mistake like he had claimed it was. The only mistake in that moment was Billie’s decision to forgive him. 

By the time she realized that Marcus’s intentions had changed, it was far too late for her to do anything about it. Billie was trapped in his angry emerald gaze, and there was no escape. 

Her parents were the first people she tried to call, but somehow they had disappeared in the week since Billie had spoken to them. Not a word had been said to her, and their “spontaneous road trip” had left her trapped with a monster when she’d needed them the most. Marcus had confiscated her phone before she could contact anyone else. 

None of that mattered now, though, because she was getting out of this hellhole. Tonight.

Billie glanced at her face in the mirror one more time, allowing herself to be disgusted by the swollen purple mass that she saw before she stepped out of the bathroom. Her sense of sight hindered, she relied mainly on her hands to help her make it out the door without adding to her collection of bruises. That was just what she needed: to add more violent colors to her skin. Then she would never make it out of the city without Marcus finding her. 

What had caused Billie to finally decide it was time to make her escape would confuse most people. Normally, the go-to answer was that the beatings were the final straw. They had certainly made Marcus unlovable, but it was the loss of her freedom that made her understand just how horrible he truly was. More specifically, the loss of her beloved Harley. 

Up until that day, Billie had been free to leave the house on her motorcycle, the only thing in the house that was solely hers, whenever Marcus was out. Those were the moments of escape that she had needed to keep the illusion of freedom. As long as she was allowed to leave the house she couldn’t consider herself a prisoner, but it was simply a moment in which she could forget her captivity. Even those were fleeting, for the instant Marcus had seen her giving a ride to the neighbor’s teenage son, her one attachment to the real world vanished.

She had been confined to the house then, and in the days that followed, Billie realized that she had been domesticated; locked up like a household pet waiting for its master to come home. Or, more aptly, like a damsel in distress waiting for her Prince Charming to come save her. Billie was done waiting.

Maybe her hesitation was caused by the naive idea that Marcus could still be the kind, caring Irishman she had met, and fallen in love with, all of those years ago. It had run through her head a few times, though Billie hated to admit that she’d even loved him in the first place, and there had been a period in which she had felt that way, but all she considered it now was time she’d wasted with the wrong person. It was time to move on, and probably take a break from dating for a little bit. 

Pushing the unpleasant memories from her head, Billie got to work preparing for her departure. She still wasn’t feeling fantastic after the beating she’d taken, but there was no telling when Marcus would return home. If she truly wanted to escape, to start over, then she would have to work through the pain for the time being. 

Her dresser drawer was the first stop in Billie’s packing scramble. Small stacks of clean shirts, pants, and undergarments were packed away in an old backpack that Billie had somehow managed to keep hold of for the years that she had been out of school. It would be invaluable to her now, for she knew that the clothes, food, and other necessities she planned to pack wouldn’t all fit in her saddlebags. A backpack was the only way she could possibly carry her belongings while on her motorcycle. 

Food, nothing that could easily spoil, of course, and a few small bottles of water were the next things Billie obtained. They would be going in her saddlebags for organization’s sake - her clothes and toiletries had taken up most of the space in her backpack. Besides, those were the things that she would need to grab quickly if she needed to stop for a moment on the road, and there would be very little time to do that at first. 

Billie had no doubts that Marcus would come after her as soon as he’d discovered that she was gone, and the plan was to be far enough away that her trail couldn’t be picked up by the Irishman by then. She couldn’t stay in Indiana for that very reason. He knew that Billie’s whole world was here, as it had been since she was a child, so she had to blaze a trail for herself elsewhere. One that Marcus would never be able to find. 

Her bike, a sleek, black Harley she got right out of college, sat exposed in the corner of the garage. She could tell that it needed some detailing, as she hadn’t touched it in weeks, but there was no time for that now. As much as Billie loved her bike, she needed to treat it like the getaway vehicle it was for the time being. There would be consequences to that, of course, but she would cross that bridge when she, and her beloved Harley, came to it. For now, she had one more thing she needed: money. 

Despite the fact that Marcus was a very careful, calculated man, there were certain things that he clearly hadn't paid attention to during their time together. For example, the fact that Billie was beyond intelligent enough to memorize the three combinations to the safe, which he used in predictable intervals. Anyone who stayed in their house, and watched Marcus, for more than a week could figure out the pattern. Billie had been watching silently from the shadows for six years, and that information had finally become useful to her. 

The only thing that Billie hadn’t been able to figure out was why someone with so much money would risk keeping it anywhere other than a bank. 

She opened the safe carefully, blue eyes peeled for any sort of additional security precautions he may have installed in the device. There were none, which allowed Billie to focus on what she had come for. And there was plenty of it. 

Large stacks of cash were interspersed throughout the safe in strange patterns. There was no doubt in Billie’s mind that it meant something to Marcus - he never did anything without a reason, but that didn’t mean that she understood all of those reasons. At this moment, it didn’t matter what the placement of the money was for. Some of it was being repurposed for her cross-country road trip. If she escaped with her life, he owed her that at least. 

One stack of bills would keep her alive for a few weeks, but she would need a real job in order to support herself after that. Working was something that Billie hadn’t been given the luxury of doing in years, and the thought of having that freedom again sent excited chills up her spine. Finally, she could be free. She just had to take the first steps to obtain it. 

Billie walked through the house, her prison, for the last time. Despite the frantic scramble she had undergone to pack the few belongings she owned, every room she had passed through was surprisingly tidy. Perhaps it had become an inherent reflex now, brought on by years of savage punishment, for her to clean up after herself. Hopefully a few years of safety would take the edge of danger out of the activity. 

Seeing no signs of the beast returning anytime soon, Billie was quick to open the garage and pull her Harley out of the corner it had been banished to. Her escape was within reach now, and it didn’t look like anyone was about to stop her. 

Her Marcus, the one she loved, wasn’t coming back. It was a strange thought for Billie to have as she swung her leg over her parked Harley, but a necessary one. It was that realization that allowed her to mourn a loss she had suffered a long time ago. His loss wasn't worthy of tears - she’d shed enough of them because of the monster he’d left behind, but her escape would be a sort of final goodbye to that horrible relationship while she was still capable of deciding to say goodbye. 

The engine purred the moment Billie turned the key, filling the now open garage with sound. Instead of the white walls she had become used to, her blue eyes were greeted by the sight of the other beautiful homes that lined the street she lived on. She had known many of these families when they’d first moved in, but things had changed since then. Billie had changed, too, but exactly how she had changed remained to be seen. 

No one had appeared to stop her yet. That was the single detail that surprised Billie as she secured a dusty helmet and slid on her sunglasses. Perhaps, after so long together, Marcus just assumed that she would stay put if he left her beaten down. He could assume all he wanted, because Billie may have been beaten, but she wasn’t broken, and she proved it the moment that the wheels of her Harley crossed the threshold of the monster’s property. 

Burgundy, shoulder length strands of hair stretched out behind her like party streamers as she eased the bike onto the main road. Like a bird taking baby steps towards the edge of its nest, Billie took it slow at first, turning corners carefully to ensure that there was no protest from the steel machine beneath her. There wasn’t. 

The engine roared with excitement as she soared down the main roads of Indiana, the house that had been her prison for so long now far from her field of vision. If all went according to plan, Billie would never come back to that house. She had left the nest now, and was on to bigger and better things. Dreams and ideas poured through the floodgates of her mind now - things that she had never allowed herself to dream of under Marcus’s watchful eye. He wasn’t here now, though, and he never would be again. 

She was finally free. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave comments and kudos down below if you did.


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